


Human

by justastressedIBstudent



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Violence, reader is polite but cold at the same time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 19:05:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justastressedIBstudent/pseuds/justastressedIBstudent
Summary: Trying to act human when you were taught to never express emotions is hard enough. Seeing carnage every day doesn’t make it any easier.





	1. Chapter 1

I should be dead.  
That was all you could think. You stared at your arm. A sizable chunk was missing from it, and had been for four days now. You had been waiting in place for some time, waiting for a fever to claim you. Waiting for death to claim you.   
After two days, you were dying, but not from the bite. You were starving and dehydrated. It was then that you had elected to emerge from your shelter, half expecting to drop dead upon seeing the sunlight. But you didn’t.   
You had made your way to a stream and had drunk the murky water, no longer caring what happened to you.   
On day three, you had realized that you weren’t going to die. Not from the bite, at least. You had departed from the shed you’d locked yourself inside of and gone in search of edible flora or fauna, as your body was screaming for something to sustain you.  
After an hour of walking, you’d found a farm in what seemed to be the middle of the woods. You had heard a man sobbing, and your own good will urged you to see if he was okay. 

Now you were sitting on a cushioned chair, eating before a group of humans. They were eyeing you suspiciously.   
“When did you say that happened?” demanded a woman, gesturing to the bite on your arm.   
“Four days.” you said softly. You hadn’t spoken since your mother had died, so the sound was strange to you. They misinterpreted your furrowed brows as confusion.  
“She don’t even know when it happened.” Growled a man with a shaved head. Your head snapped up.   
“But I just told you. Four days. It’s been four days since I was bit, and I’m still here.” You said weakly.   
He glared back at you.   
“What was with that look? That confused look.” He spat, advancing.  
“I haven’t spoken in ages. It sounds strange.” You said, too lethargic to care about his strangely violent reaction. You had expected apprehension, but not aggression.  
“I know that I should be dead. But I’m not, and that’s what matters.” You reasoned. Silence fell. Perhaps it was strange for you to be so calm in your current situation: anemic, surrounded by strangers, and orphaned. You had accepted your circumstances without a second thought. You had grown up in a tragic school system, where your friends were frequently snatched away from you via suicide. You had grown accustomed to death and loss, and your mother’s sacrifice didn’t hurt as much as it should have. You chose not to dwell on the look in her eyes as her leg had been severed from her body and the blood sprayed out. If you thought about it, it would hurt.   
You returned to reality when a curly haired man put his hand on your shoulder. He studied you closely, and, when he was satisfied, stepped away.   
“How old are you?” He asked softly in a thick, Southern drawl.  
“13.” you replied.   
“That’s Carl’s age.” he said, seemingly to himself. He looked at a woman with long, dark brown hair. “That’s Carl’s age.” He repeated, this time to her. She nodded slightly. She seemed greatly upset about the whole situation. You didn’t know who Carl was, but based on their reaction, you assumed that it was their son, probably deceased.   
“We can’t turn her out.” He said firmly.   
“Rick! She was bit!” Shouted the man with the shaved head. Rick shook his head.   
“So we quarantine her. I can’t turn her out. She’s Carl’s age.”   
“Listen, Rick, I’m sorry that Carl was shot, but you can’t do something this stupid.” spat the other man.   
“Shane, I’m not gonna turn her out.” It was Rick’s turn to raise his voice. The two of them argued back and forth. After a few minutes of this, you rose from your seat and turned to leave.   
“Thank you for the meal. I’ll be going now.” You said coolly. Rick and Shane both turned to face you.   
“You aren’t goin nowhere.” Said Rick. “You’re gonna stay here. Where it’s safe.”  
Shane huffed and stormed away.   
“Are you sure? He doesn’t seem very pleased.” You said, gesturing in the direction Shane had marched off in.  
“I’m sure. He’s just an asshole.” he said, reaching out his hand to you. You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand.   
“My name is (y/n) (l/n).” You said, your voice and mannerisms softening a bit. You felt as though you didn’t have to act like an emotionless robot now. He smiled.  
“Rick Grimes.” he said.  
There was sorrow in his eyes. He looked at you as though he was sure you wouldn’t see tomorrow, but the faintest spark of hope kept him from killing you on the spot. You felt your heart in your throat with a sudden rush of emotion. Everything from the past four days hit you at once, but you forced it back down. Emotions got people killed. That’s what your mother had always said. You had no reason to believe she was wrong; every friend you had ever had had killed themselves (or so you were told). All because of emotions, as your mother said. So you forced yours down, and continued on, not wanting to fall like your father had. Like your friends had. And maybe, one day, like these people would.


	2. Chapter 2

You quickly learned that Carl wasn’t dead. Beyond that, though, you rapidly befriended him. It was hard not to when you were the second most medically knowledgeable person in the group. Your mother had wanted you to know everything so you would be ready for any situation, and, while you certainly didn’t know everything, you had dabbled enough in such a variety of subjects that your knowledge could only be described as vast and impressive.  
You put these skills to good use, nursing Carl and in turn being welcomed into the community, despite your bite. 

One day, Carl finally noticed the bandages wrapped around your forearm.  
“What happened to you?” He demanded curiously as you shuffled a deck of cards.  
“I was bitten.” You said matter-of-factly, continuing your self-assigned task. You felt Carl sit up and slide away.  
“Y-you… were bitten? Does anyone else know?” He gasped, trying to create as much distance between the two of you as possible.  
“Yes.” You continued shuffling the cards. 

“Why aren’t you dead?”

“I don’t know.”

“...aren’t you scared?”

“No.”

That answer shocked Carl. He was clearly terrified, but whether it was of you or your circumstance you couldn’t tell and didn’t care to differentiate. 

A period of silence followed.  
“(Y/N)?” he said softly, relaxing a bit. 

“Yeah?”

“Will you tell me what happened to your mom?”

At this you looked up in confusion. You had shoved it so far down that you could barely draw it back up, but when you did you felt something very real. Something your mother would’ve disapproved of: grief. Your expression must’ve conveyed this, because Carl quickly changed the subject. At this point, however, anything he was saying was drowned out by your mother’s screams in your ears. You could smell her blood and see walkers tearing at her skin, gnawing through her leg. 

Why? That was the question that occupied your mind. Why was it her? How could someone so cold and stoic die in such a dramatic and impactful manner?

Carl was snapping his fingers in front of your face.  
“(Y/N)? (Y/N), Shane is calling you.” he practically shouted. You snapped your head up and spun around to see Shane standing in the doorway. 

“Come with me.” He growled, beckoning you. Hesitant, you followed, knowing that rebellion would lead to more problems. 

Shane hurried to the woods with a terrifying intensity. You saw his hand reach for his gun, and you immediately stopped.

“Why do you hate me?” you asked simply. Shane’s head snapped up.

“What did you just say?”

“Why do you hate me? I know you’re taking me out here to kill me.” 

He didn’t respond.

“I’m not dead. When I die, shoot me in the head. Until then, please let me live. Please.” You pleaded. Shane stared into your eyes.

“That’s not good enough. You KNOW I can’t have a potential walker around me and everyone I care about.” he snarled, palming his gun.

You resigned yourself to your fate a little too quickly for it to be deemed normal. Perhaps it was because your mother had forced you to confront your own mortality even before the apocalypse, or maybe it was because you had decided you were dead after the bite. Whatever it was, it clearly threw Shane off. 

“Makin’ it easy for me, huh? Much appreciated.” he raised his gun, pointing it at your head. 

You closed your eyes, waiting for it to be over.  
The shot rang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna be real with you, this was written in 10 minutes because I felt like I needed to update. Not my best work, but I have about 4 school projects due very soon. Pray for me. You’ll have something better... soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoyed that. I understand that it may be a bit OOC, but I’m still learning, much like many others on this site. Please be kind if you choose to comment. Thank you, and have a great day! <3


End file.
